"Then monopolist Mammon may chuckle, Riparian Ahabs rejoice;
There's excuse in your Caliban aspect, your hoarse and ear-torturing voice,
You pitiful Cockney-born Cloten, you slum-bred Silenus, 'tis you
Spoil the silver-streamed Thames for Pan-lovers, and all the nymph-worshipping crew!"
I've "reported" as near as no matter! I don't hunderstand more than arf
Of his patter; he's preciously given to potry and classical charf.
But the cheek on it, Charlie! A Stone-broke! I should like to give him wot for,
Only Dannel the Dosser's a dab orf of whom 'tain't so easy to score.
But it's time that this bunkum was bunnicked, bin fur too much on it of late—
Us on 'Opkins's 'ouse-boat, I tell yer, cared nix for the ink-spiller's "slate."